


Pharmacopoeia

by adieu



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adieu/pseuds/adieu





	Pharmacopoeia

**Prologue .. Hamamelis virginiana**

“Hey. Someone told me you know how to do doctor shit.”

I could smell the blood before they walked into the room. Two boys... one with a laceration three inches long across the forearm, and the other half covered in blood and clearly past his wit's end. “Yeah. What’s in it for me?”

“Fuck you, bitch,” he spat at me while he handed the coins across. Angry, probably more stressed than he would ever let on, but not naive, at least.

I threw a length of canvas on my bed and motioned for him to set the other boy down. “How long since it happened?”

“An hour? We tied his arm off as soon as we could.” I noticed he was missing a pant leg.

“You did a good job. He’ll be fine thanks to that.” I felt interrupted by the scowl he gave me. Not used to compliments, maybe. I set to work right away. Surgical spirit onto the wound as the boy yelped and winced away from the pain, followed by eighteen stitches, covered with tight linen.

His friend stood and stared as the cut inched itself closed. “God, you’re fucking good. Where the fuck did you learn that?”

“The Eight Kings’ Medical Observatory College, second level, surgical procedure. And four hundred hours practicum during the fifth level assisting the municipal police with first aid.”

He stared for what seemed like minutes. “Eight… Kings? Are you… what the fuck are you doing here?” As usual, after hearing anything about me, his hand was on the knife at his waist. “ _And_ you worked for the cops?”

“Yeah. But your friend isn’t going to bleed out thanks to me, so if I were you, I might try to be a little more fucking empathetic.” His shitty attitude was contagious, I guess.

“Fuck you, you spoiled brat. I should steal the money back from you. Do mommy and daddy still send you your allowance?” He slid his knife up to show me an inch of the blade.

I reached under my desk to show him that I had one of my own. “I was not fucking with you. I saved your friend's life. Take him and get out. Now.” Luckily that was all it took for him to get the message, grab his friend by his good arm and slam the door behind him.

I let a few minutes pass while I packed up my kit, sanitized the needle and forceps, rewound the spool of suture thread. Just like I studied in school. I slid my knife back into its pouch under the desk and dragged the bloody canvas off of my bed. I had to let some of the adrenaline wear off before I slammed my face into the pillow and started to sob, muffling the noises as well as I could. _Just another spoiled brat._

I heard loud rapping on the door and jolted up. “I don’t want to let myself in, Ari, but I need to check up on you. You know the schedule.”

I frantically blinked the tears out of my eyes. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Doctor, I’ll be right there.” I went to get dressed before I realized I fell asleep in my clothes, and went to open the door.

“And will you ever stop calling me Doctor? I’m not a doctor. Not by any stretch of the imagination. A witch doctor, maybe.” She chuckled to herself as she let herself in, beating me to the doorknob, until the laughter suddenly stopped short. “What is that smell? That’s blood, Ari. What are you hiding? You can’t hide something like that from me.”

I sighed. I should’ve expected this. “The street kids from the market square found out that I can close wounds. One of them brought a friend with a nick on his arm. Probably tried to steal a cashbox from someone. They even paid me.”

“From that cashbox, I suppose? You’re fine accepting stolen tender?” She grinned at me while she pulled her tools out from her bag. A rough chunk of amethyst as big as my fist, wound with silver wire and suspended in the middle of a metal ring, that she taught me was called a diadem. A few pieces of white chalk. A rag and a glass bottle of clear liquid.

“Money is money, isn’t it? And I can’t imagine those two ratting me out to the police if they get caught.”

“You’ve become such a pragmatist in such a short amount of time, Ari. It’s really been a sight to see.” By now I knew the routine, sat down on my bed and pulled my shirt over my head. I immediately caught her staring. “Oh, my. Those are starting to come along. I should buy you a bra.” I felt my face burn bright red, but I kept my mouth shut. 

She traced a circle onto my forehead with the chalk, then another over my heart and on my stomach. She wet the rag with what I knew was witch hazel and wiped the circles away, then rested the gem on my stomach. Slowly, I felt it grow colder and colder, until it started to sting the skin underneath.

I had nothing else to do, so I decided to watch her concentrate. Harriet was barely 30, but she already had a head of dark grey hair, which she wore in a crewcut. It was probably mostly for convenience, but it gave her an air of intensity while she stood over me with her eyes barely shut and her lips twisted up in focus. Slowly the crystal warmed up, back to room temperature and then past it, like a glowing coal resting on my belly. I looked down and saw it glistening like it was covered in oil.

As usual, I closed my eyes and tried to let her work. Tendrils of heat worked their way from the crystal out to my neck, the small of my back. And as usual, old thoughts started creeping into my mind. The fear of forgetting to study for an anatomy exam. The anger bubbling in my stomach while my father chastised me for a meaningless mistake in etiquette. My violent disgust for my own body.

Finally she finished, snapped out of her trance and rolled her neck a few times before sitting in my desk chair. “Honestly, given the circumstances I found you in, things are going amazingly well. Much better than they did for me, at least!” She grinned and shot me a look to let me know she was leaning into a story. “You know I got down below 100 pounds before I found a solution?”

“Below 100? You’re over six feet tall, aren’t you?”

“That’s what would’ve happened to you if it weren’t for me! Not that I’m begging for praise, of course.” She started to gather her supplies back into her bag while I threw my shirt back on. “The grey sympathic nucleus keeps growing until it subsumes other nuclei, which become warped and begin to hemorrhage their own sympathic energy, leading to--”

“Harriet, I know you’re passionate about your work, but it’s been a stressful day so far.” She blinked, nodded, and just like that, she was out of my room with a quick "good night".

I watched the door swing closed behind her and started to feel the dread setting in. I was alone with my thoughts again. I curled up around my pillow and tried my hardest to sleep.

—

_I can’t keep this up._

_I’m going to break. I think I’m gonna… break._

“Castridomina. What are the three principles of first aid?”

_Fuck. Fuck._ “To preserve life. To protect the casualty from further harm. To promote recovery.”

“Good. I hope to instill in all of you the urgency that emergency medicine requires. Unlike the other disciplines you may be studying, there is no excuse for delay, no valid reason to put off treatment. Your patient’s health may worsen so severely in those seconds of hesitation that--”

_I'm so tired. Oh my god I'm so tired._

_I think I'm gonna die._

“--the rate of blood loss from a single stab wound can exceed--”

_I think I wanna die._

_Please. I just don’t wanna be me anymore._

“--patients will be disoriented and shocked, and you must be prepared to calm them--”

_Oh fuck I can’t smell anything but blood_

“Mr. Castridomina. Mr. Castridomina, please sit down and app—"

"—and I've heard from Provost Alexandros that you've failed yet another practicum. A crooked suture to start, and then it pulls out of the skin when he grabs the tissue."

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"Oh, and you thought that shit excuse would work when this is the third failure."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Apologize after you've passed and I'll accept it. If I give you any forgiveness before then I know you'll just stop trying again."

"I-I'm sorry." _Fuck, I'm crying—_

"Oh, God, not that again." _Please, don't hit me. Please. Plea—_

—

When I woke up, Harriet was staring down at me. “I… thought you left?”

“I did leave, and now I’m back. And you slept for almost a full day.” Suddenly I noticed the heel of her boot digging into my side, and then every other sensation in my body rushed back in. I was drenched in sweat. My entire body was too sore to move. “Remember when I said you were doing better than I did? That was wishful thinking.”

I guess she knew I wouldn’t be able to do it myself, because she heaved me up and onto the bloody tarp she had spread back onto the bed. She already had her kit out, along with a knife which she used to slice the pad of one of her fingers. “This is gonna get sloppy, Ari. For both of us. Sorry in advance.” Then she shoved her bloody finger deep into my throat, pressed her diadem into my stomach, and then—


End file.
